Lost and Found
by MistressFlame
Summary: James: lost and fighting an internal battle. Lily: lost and has given up all hope. Can they both let each other in long enough to find them, save them and give them strength for the war ahead? - Oneshot -


**Lost and Found**

It was very late. Late enough that the Head Boy and Girl would have already finished with their rounds of the castle and returned to their dormitory. Pale slivers of moonlight drifted in through the high glass-paned windows, illuminating the corridor I was walking along in a ghostly glow. The portraits that lined the corridor walls were also quiet, seemingly asleep. Nothing disturbed me as I walked. My feet were bare; my footfalls were light and quiet. I softly clutched my wand in my right hand as my arms swung by my sides. I was only wearing the pyjama bottoms I wore to bed and nothing else. In the back of my mind I silently prayed that McGonagall not catch me in my half naked state.

My walks around the castle were not an infrequent occurrence these days. I just simply could not sleep for any more than three or four hours a night. So instead of lying awake in bed listening to the soft snores of Remus, Peter's aimless scratching and Sirius' slightly more annoying grunts and mumbled sleep talking, I would wander about the castle, reliving old memories of all the nook, crannies and secret passages the boys and I had found over the years. I was most happy at times like this – alone at night and in some obscure part of Hogwarts. I loved the dark – I accepted it, embraced it, revelled in it. It was as night that I could escape, away from the tiring personality of James Harold Potter – the straight O student, captain and star of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, one fourth of the Marauders and a very handsome bloke. At night I could just be me, James – the guy who had to teach himself how to ride a broom when he was a child because his father was always too busy working with the Ministry to ever be around, the guy who worked his arse off for his grades because he only ever wanted to please his father, make him proud. He was the guy who spent the most amount of time on the Quidditch field for extra practice lessons because he wanted to be perfect for his family, not wanting to let the Potter name down. He was the guy who wandered Hogwarts Castle at night trying not to hate the person that he had to become again the next morning.

I sighed. It was becoming too much, trying to keep up this façade. Yes, I had wanted to make my father proud of me but instead he was only _slightly_ proud of a stuck-up git of a human being who was fast becoming a depressed insomniac. Nighttimes were my respite. It was my time to figure out what to do and how to fix myself. The conclusion that I had come up with over the past few nights was not good for me though. I have come to realise that I can't _fix_ myself – I am a broken record, only good for one thing: to try and become the perfect Potter son. Becoming James will need a feat of immense strength and will power, such that one person alone does not possess. This left me at a dead end. Where would I turn to now? Who could help me? The boys had tried, they really had but it did not feel right. I felt as though I was missing something, as though I should be looking for something. But what?

By now, I had walked to one of the most remote corners of Hogwarts, in the north-western portion of the castle. I tried to go to different places every night but I seemed to end up in this spot more often than not. I knew why. There was a corridor close to here that was unlike any other in Hogwarts. The boys and I had found the place in our third year but it held no interest for us back then and so we did not give it a second thought. This corridor was not lined with suits of armour or any paintings or portraits, nor did it have the warm, polished floor like the castle's other corridors. Instead, its floor was covered in a time worn, black coloured floor carpet while the walls were bare, save the wall at the very end. The wall at the end of the corridor was covered in a tapestry. This should not be so unusual except that the tapestry showed a _Muggle_ myth – that of the Prince of Wallachia or Vlad the Impaler. The tapestry confused me. It was vibrantly gruesome in its horrific depiction of the bodies impaled on the long stakes, with Vlad standing in the background, erect in victory - but with Vlad's bloody past this was also to be expected. No, what confused me the look on Vlad's face. He looked like he was torn in two: satisfaction that he had won and gained honour and vengeance for his family and yet horror at the pain in which he had inflicted upon his enemies. He looked torn between what was expected of him and what he wanted to be…he looked like me. At first I was amazed that Vlad the Impaler had a soft side for it was something that had never been mentioned anywhere, not in any book whether it was Muggle or magical. But then I questioned myself, _Well why not?_ Why couldn't he have been trapped in the same mess that I was in, trapped but with no way out, left only to resort to tragic violence as a means to become the perfect son for his family? _Just like me_, I thought.

But no, we were very different. He gave in to man that he was forced to become and he turned to the dark side to vent his frustrations. Looking at Vlad I decided that I would not take the same path. I would find the strength, somehow, somewhere, to fight the destiny chosen for me and choose my own path. Make my own mistakes; fail and fall but learn to pick myself up again and keep on going. _I will do this_, I thought vehemently.

I came out of my reverie suddenly, still riding on my emotion of change, when I noticed that I stood at the threshold of the dark corridor where Vlad lay beyond, my feet still on the clean, comforting floor of the corridor running adjacent to my regular haunt. With renewed determination, for I would make sure that this would be my last visit here, I picked up my feet and moved forward. I had moved halfway down when I stopped. There was a sound coming from up ahead, a soft voice that I would recognise anywhere. My breathing stopped. My heart churned and my stomach tightened. My eyes focused straight ahead, straining to see beyond they darkness. The voice was still a way off yet so it probably wouldn't know that I had stood here, listening. I still had time to turn around and leave.

_She doesn't know I'm here. I should just go_, I thought. I turned around abruptly but my feet would not move any further.

_She's upset_, a second voice in my head spoke up, probably the wiser side of my conscience. _Help her._

_She would not want me, I would just make her _more_ upset_, I reasoned, trying to give myself a reason to get the hell out of there. _Besides_, I thought to myself,_ it's Lily-bloody-Evans; she's nothing if not strong._

My mind made up, I squared my shoulders, took a deep breath and began to walk back.

_Yes, she is strong;_ the second voice spoke up again. I stopped. _She is independent. She is the one that people go to when they have problems and she is the one that finds the solutions for them. But who does she go to with her problems? Just because she is strong enough to deal with them alone, does not mean that she should have to, James. Turn around._

He was right. _I_ was right. She took everybody's problems onto her own shoulders and kept her own bottled up inside. If I could help her, I should. I turned back around and once again made my way down the corridor, all the while trying to ignore the shame of what I had almost done. _ I can't believe I nearly walked away. Merlin, I am such a coward_.

As I got closer to her, her muffled crying became louder, breaking my heart. She was in pain. Suddenly, I began to walk faster, now wanting nothing more than to reach her, help her, hold her. My heart quickened but when I saw her, I stopped short. She was sitting on the murky, old carpet, her back leaning against a wall and her knees drawn up to her chest. Even in the darkness, I couldn't see her face because it was resting on top of her knees, her slender white arms circled around them, hugging herself tight. She was rocking slightly, back and forth, back and forth, as she cried. Her thick hair cascaded down her back with some strands falling over on one side. She was dressed in a tank top and loose shorts, probably the clothes she slept in. Slowly, I moved to her side. She had not realised that I was here yet and if she suddenly did I didn't want to frighten her.

I slid down the wall and sat next to her. _Now what?_ I thought. Should I talk to her, touch her, what? I didn't have to make a decision. Lily turned to her left and wrapped her arms around my waist, burying her face into the crook of my neck. _Whoa_, I thought. Tentatively, I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her close. She seemed to be sitting in an awkward position so I spooned one arm beneath her legs and scooped her up, settling her into my lap. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was aware that this was the closest and most intimate thing we had ever done. I was also aware that I was shirtless and that her arms and most of her legs were bare. But for the most part, the sound of her soft tears filled my ears. I rubbed my hand up and down her back while the other stroked her hair. I had yet to say something and so had she. We both didn't feel the need to.

I leaned my head back against the wall as I held her closer still. I closed my eyes and tried to remain calm - even though my head was buzzing with questions - hoping that the peaceful emotion would also rub off on her. I don't know how long we sat there like that – two people who were by no means friendly to each other, comforting and being comforted. I wondered if this lull in our usual relationship would last.

For as long as I could remember I had fancied Lily – and she had steadfastly refused to return the feelings, something which I admired her for but also frustrated me to no end. After fifth year though, and the stunt Sirius had pulled with Snape and Remus, I began to accept deep down that maybe Lily would not ever return my affections. I threw myself into schoolwork and into my endeavour to please my father. Lily was not forgotten but instead became a symbol for the life that I wanted but could never lead. For half of fifth and all of this year, I had left Lily alone. Whenever I spoke to her I was polite and civil and that was where our contact would end. So it was somewhat bizarre that we had ended up in this situation. I turned my attention back to her. She had stopped crying now, though my hands kept on moving, keeping up their soothing rhythm.

"You okay?" I whispered. Lily took in a deep but shaky breath, gave a small, sad sigh and tightened her hold around me, trying to burrow deeper into my neck. She slowly nodded her head.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, waiting for her to reply. A few seconds later, after clearly thinking about it, she gave a small shrug of her slight shoulders.

I sighed. "Lily," I said "talk to me. Tell me what happened." I gently reached behind and pried open the hold she had on me, softly pushing her away so that I could see her face, look into her eyes. Her arms cam to rest on my chest. The window opposite us gave a faint glow of moonlight that was enough to see the tear tracks running down her cheeks. I brought both hands up to her face and used my thumbs to gently wipe away her remaining tears.

"I promise you, I will do anything that I can to fix it," I whispered to her. I leaned in and pressed my lips to her forehead. As soon as my lips touched her smooth skin a spark ignited, somewhere deep inside me. I turned my head and ran my nose down the side of her face, breathing her scent in deeply. Bringing my eyes back to meet hers, I saw fresh tears pooled there, still not spilled. We stared at each other and I felt goose bumps rise up on my arms, a shiver going down my back. Good Merlin, her gaze! It was like she could see everything that made me who I am, the good and the bad. I couldn't hide anything from her and I couldn't shield her away from the things that I did not want her to see. I watched as she swallowed, noticing how her slender throat moved. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and forced the tears to spill over. Immediately, I cupped her small face in my hands, leaned in and kissed them away, keeping our faces millimetres apart. I wanted to show her that I was in control and that I could keep her safe but inside I was trembling: I had never seen Lily like this before – so scared and so vulnerable. Lily's strength was always such a constant throughout my life. She didn't know it, and I never told anyone, but I measured myself up against her. If I was going through a rough time with my father or at school, I would always think, _how would Lily solve this? What would she do to fix this?_ Lily was my strength. Vlad the Impaler's torn face flashed through my mind. _Is this what I am supposed to look for?_ I asked myself. _Is this what I am to find, to take?_

"Don't cry Lily. Please, Beautiful, please don't cry." I closed my arms around her again and whispered into her ear, "Just tell me."

"I don't know, James. I just don't know what to do anymore." Her voice caught at the end and I began to gently rub her back; I didn't want her to start crying again. "What are we doing here? We live in a safe haven while a war rages outside, killing innocent people, killing Muggles! What did they do? What was their crime? It is wrong, it is so, so wrong, James." She pushed her head against my chest, like she was trying to push the pain out of her head. I did not reply to her. What was I supposed to say? I was the one acting like a whiny teenager, complaining that my father did not love me while Lily was worried that she could not save the world. Every name that she had called me over the years was right. I really was an arrogant, selfish coward. Her problems dwarfed mine completely. I felt Lily take a deep breath where her head rested against my chest and then continue talking, her voice never louder than the softest of whispers.

"I found a second year in the bathroom today. Her name is Barbra Whitman. She's a muggle-born witch. She was crying and throwing up and pulling her hair out. She told me that she had gotten a letter from the Ministry of Magic today, telling her that the Dark Mark had been found above her house with her parents and little baby brother dead inside. Why did they do this to her? Why are they doing this at all James, I don't understand!" Lily's eyes glazed over and her face took on a faraway look. Her voice had no emotion left in it; it was dead. "I've never felt as helpless in my entire life as I did in that moment."

Lily pulled herself up and looked me squarely in the eyes, a small crease furrowed between her eyebrows that I just wanted to smooth out. "Is there no hope James?" she asked me, sounding so vulnerable, so unlike the Lily that I knew. "Are we all just doomed to die?"

"No Lily. Absolutely not." I answered her. I gave a quick glance in the direction of Vlad's tapestry. My voice grew stronger and I looked her back in the eye as I spoke, finally smoothing out her crease. "We have been given a choice to make, Lily. We can either become the person that Voldemort would rather we become and choose the dark side," I said. I ran my fingers through her hairs, smoothing down areas where I suspected she had been pulling at it. "Or," I continued, "We can rebel against the straight and easy path that they want us to take, be brave, follow our heart and what we know is right and fight them in any big or small way that we can. And that right there Lily, is why I believe that we can win this war – because we choose good over evil, the hard path over the easy path. By making that choice we are showing them that we are stronger than they are and that we can persevere."

"How can we do that, James? I don't feel like I alone have the strength to fight them." Lily looked down into her lap for the first time, fiddling with her nails. "I might need you to help me." She said in a small voice.

I placed my hand under her chin and lifted it up so that I could see her again. When I spoke, my voice was small too. "I won't be strong enough alone either. Do you think we could help each other?" I asked her.

She looked at me for the longest time. Finally, slowly, she nodded her beautiful head. She leaned towards me and I did the same, meeting her halfway. Our foreheads rested against each other, our eyes probing deep into the other person's soul. I had wanted to kiss Lily for a very long time, for years. I had wanted Lily to be my girlfriend. In this moment I had neither kissed her nor claimed her but I felt that now, sitting like we were, was perfect. It was exactly where I wanted to be.

Lily's hand reached out, her fingertips lightly caressing the area just beneath my eyes. "You're hurting too." she said matter-of-factly. _So she knows_, I thought. Lily was the one person who I could never hide anything from, no matter how hard I wanted to. She could always see through me and my bullshit. So as much as I wanted to, I couldn't hide my pain from her, no matter how small I now thought it to be. Slowly, I nodded my head. I let my pride; my arrogance and my stubbornness go and admitted that I had a problem that I did not know how to solve. She smiled at me and I realised that she knew how hard that admittance really was for me. But I was already thinking about something else: her smile. Her next move played out in slow motion. She leaned forward just a little bit more and angled her head to her right. Slowly, softly, gently, she pressed her soft, full lips to mine. She lingered for just a second before she pulled away. It was a chaste kiss and it was quick but it communicated so much.

"I'll help you James," she said. And with that I was complete. I knew that from here on in, we would face the uncertain future together, leaning on each other for support and giving each other strength. In that moment, I knew that I would do anything for her. My father did not matter. My family name was not important. All that really mattered now was Lily and my love for her.

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**A/N: So…what do you think? I always thought that stories where James and Lily fell in love, kissed and started going out in the space of 100 words were lots of fun to read but a little bit unrealistic. **

**I enjoyed writing this…I mean, everybody loves a slightly angsty James, right? **

**And I also liked how both James and Lily were flawed and equally strong and weak – that's why they need each other. **

**Anyway … please let me know what you think and thank you very, very much for reading!**

**MistressFlame**


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